Dragon-Freed
by DONOVAN94
Summary: The Dragon Riders are now in Middle Earth, but their battle for recognition isn't yet won. Even as the enemy of all the free peoples now threatens not only Arda but Alagaesia also, they must do what they can to ensure the survival of all. And when Saphira feels a magical shackle begin to break, she must return to the Lonely Mountain and face her past demons... (Dragon-Bound sequel)
1. Chapter 1

**~Dragon-Freed~**

**by DONOVAN94**

* * *

_"Jenny of Oldstones" By Florence + the Machines_

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_  
_ Jenny would dance with her ghosts_  
_ The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_  
_ And the ones who had loved her the most_

_ The ones who'd been gone for so very long_  
_ She couldn't remember their names_  
_ They spun her around on the damp old stones_  
_ Spun away all her sorrow and pain_

_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_  
_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_ They danced through the day_  
_ And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall_  
_ From winter to summer then winter again_  
_ Til the walls did crumble and fall_

_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_  
_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_  
_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_  
_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_ High in the halls of the kings who are gone_  
_ Jenny would dance with her ghosts_  
_ The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_  
_ And the ones_  
_ Who had loved her the most..._

* * *

_December 14__th__, FO2_

_SNAP_

Saphira's great eyes sprung open, casting pale blue light onto the stone floor. The hour was late, for the last of the embers were fading in the hearth. Yet the thought of sleep had been brushed aside from her mind in the wakefulness that came with the echo of magic thrumming through her body. Her wings shivered, the feathers letting lose a rattling whisper. Beneath them, Eragon stirred but did not wake. He had fallen asleep beside her again, too exhausted to climb into his own bed.

The room they shared was something that they had once thought would only be realised in their dreams. It was a room that seemed carved into the mountain stone, sung into shape by the magic they had woven in its creation. The main chamber was large enough that even Saphira could move about with no trouble. A gigantic hearth filled the room with heat at the northern end of the chamber – a simple spell cast upon the wood thrown into the fire made sure it emitted no smoke. Eragon had his own desk, twice as long as he was tall, filled to the brim with papers and letters and maps. He was the head of the rider order, yet not even he could've prepared for the amount of paperwork involved with that task. A slim staircase spiralled up to a chamber above them; Eragon's bedchamber and library, though he rarely slept there these days. Saphira had a comfortable nest, a bowl-like pit in the floor on the other side of the fire. Though she had a cave of her own in the adjoining peaks, this nest was for whenever she wished to visit her rider here, and often stayed overnight.

Carefully moving so as not to wake her rider, Saphira stood from her nest and padded away from the fireplace. She went to a large opening in the wall that led onto a balcony large enough to allow her to take off and land. Pausing at the threshold, the dragoness gazed out onto the glittering snow-speckled peaks around her. The dark velvet of the night sky was peppered with stars, each glittering like a dragon scale far above. From so high, she could spy the many pockets of caves dotted around the adjoining mountains. And far below, if she craned her neck over the balcony's side, she could see the large fortress, the home of the Rider Order, sprawled out across the mountainside, the roof dusted with snow.

The Dragonrider Order had done well in establishing this fortress. Nestled in the heart of the Grey Mountains, nothing surrounded them but miles of unforgiving terrain. These peaks were perfect for dragons, with plenty of caves and an abundance of prey in the ridges and valleys. The widest mountain had been selected for them to build the place where the Rider Order might bloom. Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn had made the main hall first. And then later, with the help of all the races from both Middle Earth and Alagaesia, they had set about their monumental task to build the rest. Half built, half formed by magic, their Fortress appeared to both be built upon the mountain yet also was half carved within it.

From the main hall, they had so many different sections, as if an entire kingdom had been built here. Into the heart of the mountain was the vaults, filled with the most sacred artefacts, texts and secrets of the rider order, the secrets that could not be easily shared. As well as that, down in the bowels of the mountain, they came close to a vein of earth-fire that dwarf engineers used to traverse heat to the rest of the fortress. Beside this source of heat, Saphira had requested a chamber be built to house the eggs that had not yet hatched. It was warm and cosy and specifically made to allow her to come and go to tend to them. Each of them would be comfortable before they chose their time to hatch. Saphira found she came down to them most every day in order to turn the eggs, sing to them, and touch each of their minds. It was a responsibility she took with pride. And when an egg decided to hatch, she would take the hatchling away with her to her own nest to raise in the sun.

One tower of the fortress had been called the Hall of Colours, for it had been made with stain glass windows all around and gems embedded in the walls to reflect as much colour as could possibly be held. It was here that the Eldunari of all the dragons were placed; these were the council of elders that were the second highest authority of the entire Rider Order. The Eldunari of Glaedr, Umaroth, Cuaroc and even the Eldunari that had been imprisoned by Galbatorix (the peace they had known since being freed had helped them immeasurably to heal) all resided there. Eragon and Saphira had made their chambers in the eyrie, the tallest spire in the fortress, from which to preside and rule over their subordinates.

It had taken six years to fully complete, but at last, the fortress stood proud and tall and undeniable. They had named it Arngor, 'white mountain' in the dwarven tongue, for the stone in which the fortress was built was a bone white in colour.

A winter breeze whipped up around the mountain and trickled along Saphira's massive bulk. With it, came another whisper that haunted the edges of her mind. The echo of magic once more resounded inside her like a second heartbeat. She shifted from talon to talon, unable to deny the restless energy that was now flickering through her.

"You feel it, don't you."

She did not need to turn her head to confirm that Eragon had awoken. She could see through his eyes as he stared after her, perched upon the balcony, her form half shrouded in the veil of night and half within reach of the hearth's embers. She heard his footsteps as he walked up beside her. His hand was warm when he touched her wrist. She had grown over the past decades – now her beloved rider barely came to half way up her forearm.

She was not the only one to have changed. Her Eragon, partner of her heart and mind, had changed also. No one would believe she had chosen a scrawny farm-boy if they saw him now. He was tall and his shoulders were well built. The enchantments that made him elvish-looking had enhanced his ears to even pointier end over time, his facial features sharper and handsomer than was humanly possible. Those same spells had robbed him of the ability to grow a beard (though Saphira could not understand his desire to grow fur around his muzzle – he was no dog, after all), so instead, Eragon had grown his hair into a great bushy mane that he braided and entwined trinkets amongst the locks.

_"__You know I must go." _She said to him, her thoughts mingling with his in a form of embrace, her excitement and anxiety washing through and all around his trepidation and curiosity. _"I set us upon this path. I must see it through to its conclusion." _

He smiled and looked up to her so that she could see into his one remaining eye. She did well to mask her shame upon gazing at the one eye clouded with mist and unseeing – a testimony to her failure. "Even after all this time…"

_"__82 years, by two-leg standards." _Had it truly been so long? Her eyes drifted to one of the caves on a nearby peak. She hadn't visited there often, not since her own children had flown the nest for good. Her tail sagged and her wings snapped open and closed in grief. The loneliness had almost been forgotten without that little reminder.

Eragon's hand rubbed short circles into her scales. "Time is the ultimate healer. Perhaps now it has finally done it's work."

_"__I will be careful," _she vowed, touching her nose to his chest.

He hugged her back fiercely. "I know you will." He touched his forehead to her snout and allowed their essences to mix completely. Saphira crooned to him softly, touched with his love and apprehension. "Come home soon."

_"__As soon as I am able."_

With one last puff of breath to ruffle his hair, Saphira leaned into the wind and flung herself over the edge of the balcony. She allowed herself to freefall for three seconds. And when the jagged rocks of the valley floor came rushing to greet her, she snapped open her massive feathered wings and soared upwards. Past and around Arngor Fortress she made her way, her mind briefly reaching out to the Eldunari that lay within the Hall of Colours. She needed only send them a fleeting image of her destination, and even that was done out of a sense of curtesy.

_"__Take heed of your Rider's caution," _came the voice of Umaroth. _"He has changed enough to break his bonds, that means not that he has changed in the way you hope."_

_"__I must see for myself regardless."_

Without another word, she flew higher than their minds could reach her. Even when she had grown so massive, she was still the greatest flier in the Rider Order. None could match her speed and agility; if anything, her added size had given her wings strength to boost her abilities.

She heard the beat of a pair of wings and turned her head to acknowledge a pair of dragons, their riders (one human and one Urgal) atop their shoulders. One was deep blue-black, the other a seaweed green. They were both males: Tuvanar and Rethung. It was their turn to be on patrol. Though spells and wards were in place to protect Fort Arngor and to alert everyone should danger be imminent, it was considered a good strategy to have the younger riders take turns for guard duty, to encourage vigilance and cooperation.

Saphira remembered these two males. Tuvanar, the darker of the two, was quiet and reactive. Rethung took after his Urgal rider, and was prone to showing off for what he perceived to be glory. _"Dragon-mother!" _Rethung called to her in the Ancient Language, as he and the other riders had been instructed to converse in the tongue to improve their vocabulary. _"You would leave us?"_

_"__Fear not," _she told them. _"I hope to return before the sunset of the seventh day."_

They let her pass, even when she could feel their concern for her. She snorted. They needed to better conceal their true emotions; though she would not begrudge them, for their worry was flattering. Even if they had wanted to stop her, they would not oppose her, for she was the alpha dragon amongst them all, as well as being the mother who had raised them and the mentor that had trained them.

Her students were left in her wake as she flapped her wings with a mighty clap like thunder. Wheeling on an updraft, Saphira used the currents of air to point her south east and made her way out of the reach of all friends and allies. She did not need the dawn to make out the singular mountain on the distant horizon…

* * *

It had always fascinated Saphira as to why dwarves, one of the smallest of all the races she had come across, would build their halls of stone so large that even dragons could not fill them. As Saphira stepped through the threshold of Erebor, she was mesmerised to look up at the vastness of the ancient statues and echoes of a lost kingdom. How could she have forgotten the splendour of this place? So many memories were kept here, she was bathed in them all at once, rooting her talons to the spot.

She was not as small as she had been when last she walked these chambers. But even with her added height, she could easily step through the front gate and need not worry about keeping her wings tightly closed once inside. She snorted when the stale air assaulted her nose. Had everything been covered in so fine a layer of dust when she was last here? Had there been so many cobwebs? Had everything truly looked so faded? Since when had the ancient stone faces of the dwarves crumbled under the duress of time?

A flutter of tiny wings seized her heart, and she hesitated. Some part of her warned her away, that this place was not hers to trespass. With a steeling breath, Saphira lashed her tail. She feared nothing and no one. If she was to receive consequences for past sins, then so be it. She would not hide from it like a coward. This was the path she had set the world upon, and now she needed to see it through to its conclusion. The scrape of her talons on the stone floor echoed around her, her breath steamed before her eyes. She couldn't remember the inside of the mountain ever being so cold, even in the dead of winter.

A crumbled stone column bared her path and she paused. The stone had been uprooted from its place amongst its identical brothers by a powerful force that had shattered it upon impact with the floor. On some of the larger chunks, Saphira could make out deep gouges from where talons had sliced into the stone.

Memories of the battle that had caused such marks returned to the forefront of her mind. Her jaw chittered nervously, her tail twitching lower to the floor. Once more that nervousness coursed through her veins. What would happen if he did not wish to see her? Well, then she would leave, she reasoned. She came here because it was her duty to be here. And because she needed to see him once more, to set him free of any ties to her with her apologies and forgiveness. Even if all he did was attack her – and there was a possibility of that – she would take it in stride and still deliver her message. Then she could return to her life, alone once more, but at least the pair of them would be free.

So many years ago, the path to the central chamber had been carved into the mountain so that even Saphira could follow the way even should she not remember it at all. As she stared down into the great darkness that beckoned her in to swallow her whole, she felt herself be torn with the need to know and the need to take flight. But she would not. She was Saphira Brightscales, Mother of Dragons, Leader of the Rider Order. It had been many long years but the road that had brought her here had defined her as a dragon that would not flee from any dangers. To find her resolve once again, she reflected on the events throughout the years that had led her to this moment…


	2. Chapter 2

"Vokul Fen Mah" - by Peter Hollens and Malukah

_Fire, fire dragon fire_  
_Searing words of ancient ire_  
_Wake, wake from the grave_  
_Rise to set the world aflame_  
_Hmm-hmm-hmm_

_Night, night endless night_  
_Terror is the only light_  
_Bane, bane rage untamed_  
_Darkness dwells in age-old blame_

_Voth aan JOOR-ZAH-FRUL rein_  
_Vokul fen mah, fen mah_  
_Fin norok ved viing bonaar_  
_Vokul fen mah_

_Sul, sul fent alok_  
_Nahkriin mahfaeraak nahlot_  
_Qahnaar fin mey wo nis koraav_  
_Vokunne qiilaan wah fin krein_

_Voth aan JOOR-ZAH-FRUL rein_  
_Vokul fen mah, fen mah_  
_Fin norok ved viing bonaar_  
_Vokul fen mah_

* * *

_2942TA - 3018TA_

After the Battle of the Five Armies, the newly established Dragon Rider order struggled to find its place in Middle Earth. Few among any of the races trusted dragons or foreigners, both having bad reputations. Eragon and Saphira first decided to have many talks with the White Council, to earn their trust first before moving on to the other peoples. Gandalf was an easy ally to win, having fought beside them at Erebor. Saruman was a wizard that Saphira instantly disliked, but for what reason, she could never pin in place. Lord Elrond was kind and stern but his was a trust slowly earned over several meetings, even though he had met Eragon before. Galadriel was an elf unlike any either rider or dragon had ever encountered – her eyes and power seeming to seep into their minds unless they had the most impressive shields against her.

Eventually, after five years of negotiations and placations, the White Council encouraged a summit. All the kings of every kingdom and race were invited to come and hear out the proposal of the Dragon Riders. Saphira had watched Eragon fret and obsess over the upcoming meeting for months in advance. Nerves threatened to send him to the brink of madness – and Saphira to the edge of her temper. At the meeting, Eragon and Murtagh and even Arya had arrived to attend and to recount the Rider's history to the assembled Kings. They laid the truth before them all and told them of their purpose in Middle Earth. Slowly, through demonstrations (as well as having three peaceful dragons looming over the whole proceedings) trust had slowly been earnt. But when Eragon had proposed the idea that dragon eggs would be brought to their peoples to choose a rider – that had met resistance.

For it was one thing to accept foreigners so long as they stayed away from their own kingdoms and were sworn out of politics. It was quite another to ask that members of your own people be forced to give up their lives and join that foreign organisation. Many feared the Riders were recruiting spies or attempting to create an army with which to take over Middle Earth. Men were the first race to agree to having the eggs choose one of their own – though Saphira feared it had been more because of their greed for power rather than their wish for cooperation. Galadriel had also pledged Lothlorien to the cause, Lord Elrond behind her. And because elves were involved, the dwarves had to pledge themselves as well so as to not be outdone. Only King Thranduil outright refused and continued to refuse for many years after.

Couriers were then recruited to ferry the eggs from kingdom to kingdom. Some having to travel all of Middle Earth and Alagaesia before they found their rider. Within three years, the Rider order had doubled in size. In the peaks of the Grey Mountains, Eragon and Murtagh taught the new riders, and Saphira and Thorn taught the young dragons in the safety and seclusion of the mountains. There, no bystanders would be hurt in accidents and the new dragons and riders would be themselves. This education lasted a standard of two years – though every pair was different, some completing their training far quicker or slower depending on their willingness to adapt and learn. From this, the Riders built the strongest bond with the dwarves, surprisingly enough. Rider blades needed to be made from star-metal, and Middle Earth had an abundance of it which the dwarves forged for each Rider (said Riders having to pay handsomely for it). With their blade in hand, the new riders were then shipped off across the sea back to Alagaesia to complete their training in hands on experience enforcing the peace there, under the command of Queen Arya. Only when she deemed them ready did they fully graduate as full-riders and could then choose which continent they wished to serve on.

As the Rider Order slowly grew, they were able to answer threats more effectively. Eragon had made a point to each of the races that should they ever have need, they could call on the riders, and they would be there to help. In the early years, Eragon and the others responded to threats from Orcs without much invitation. Shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies, Sauron had declared his presence in Mordor, a realm where not even dragons dared to venture. When Orcs raided villagers or threatened roads filled with travellers, the dragon riders responded without hesitation. Through this, they slowly gained a more favourable reputation.

The test to this reputation came in the form of small skirmishes when the people of Middle Earth finally did request aid. Gondor was first, having suffered attacks along their coast by murderous pirates of the Corsairs of Umbar. Saphira herself had led the charge of attack from both air and sea – the sailors had not expected the dragons to abandon the freedom of the air and their weapon of fire in order to attack with tooth and talon from below the waves. And with that decisive victory, it was clear for all to see the truth behind the Dragon-Rider's vows.

After that, more requests came. The dwarves had wanted to retake the ancient lost kingdom of Moria from Orc occupation. Murtagh had left to join the expedition, along with one of the recently graduated students. They and their dragons had helped to protect the expedition team and drive off the orcs effectively and efficiently. When the head of the team – Balin, who had journeyed with Eragon to Erebor – had declared it safe, the riders had returned to their home. Five years after that, all contact with the colony ceased. The Dragons and their Riders attempted to learn what had happened, but found only orcs and goblins. They had their vengeance on the foul beasts, but Moria was ultimately deemed lost. Saphira had been absent from that battle, busy rearing a batch of five wild hatchlings that had recently been born in the vault; but she had heard it was a good fight, one all of Middle Earth appreciated.

And so, slowly, the Dragon Rider Order had found its footing.

And then the day arrived that Saphira had always suspected would come…

* * *

_3018TA, October - 3019TA, January_

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you've been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor."

Sixty years after the Battle of the Five Armies, it finally happened. The Riders had received a summons to a special meeting in Rivendell, called the Council of Elrond. Not much detail had been given in the summons, only that it was most urgent, and all representatives of every species needed to be there. Eragon had been loathed to go, for Mordor had been bustling with activity and Gondor could not keep watch of every point along the border. The Riders had taken to patrolling the area on occasion, attempting to scout to see if they could spy what the Dark Lord there was up to. But, he could not refuse this recognition, not when they had been yearning for this for so many years.

Murtagh had been left in charge of Fort Arngor, and Eragon and Saphira had taken two of their most prestigious students along with them to the council. It was there that they learned the full extent of the importance of this meeting. Apparently a hobbit, Frodo Baggins (a relation of Bilbo's, Eragon was happy to learn) had managed to come into possession of the One Ring. They learned that Sauron, the evil entity that had attempted to capture Smaug and the Lonely Mountain all those years ago, was an evil god-like being that lived in the realm of Mordor. Thousands of years ago, he had attempted to rule the earth under a blanket of darkness and cruelty, and now he sought to do so again. The only thing standing in his way, was a single ring – a ring of power. They learned that Sauron had put most of his power and will into this ring, and should he get it back, he could take physical form once again and be reinstated with his full might.

Upon even seeing the Ring, Eragon had been beset by a foulness that had attempted to take hold of his mind. Only through Saphira's rage and protection was he spared. It was clear to nearly all of them that the Ring had to be destroyed, for only then would Sauron's evil truly be defeated. The Dwarves had attempted to smash the Ring. Eragon and the Riders had attempted to use the most powerful magic they knew – they even attempted to use the name of names to undo the magic on the ring! Even the dragons attempted to melt the ring in the breath of their fires. But still the Ring remained intact, mocking them.

"Valiant of you to try, Saphira the Great," said Gandalf to her. "But there is not now any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough to melt the Rings of Power. Nor was there ever any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the One Ring, the Ruling Ring, for that was made by Sauron himself."

"The Ring cannot be destroyed by you, Gimli, son of Gloin," said Elrond, "nor you Eragon, son of Brom, nor any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came!"

Then had come the decision of who should carry the ring. Frodo volunteered to lift this burden, and soon nine others rallied around him. Legolas, prince of the Mirkwood elves. Gimli of the dwarves. Boromir of Gondor. Gandalf the Grey, and Aragorn, the supposed lost heir to the throne of Gondor. One of Eragon's students and his dragon volunteered to accompany this Fellowship on their quest. It was initially thought that the dragon could carry them all to Mordor and have the journey done with. However, the Ring could be brought near no dragon, for to be in its very presence brought them to near madness. Saphira knew why. Morgoth, Sauron's ancient master, had used foul magic to dominate the dragon species so many thousands of years ago – that was the fate that befell the dragons of this continent, for all were now his creatures in some form. The dragons of Alagaesia had some protection from it – Saphira suspected it was due to their Eldunari – but the same foul magic that Morgoth had used was in the One Ring. It was decided it was best not to tempt fate. So, the young Rider was chosen instead to accompany the Fellowship as protection on their quest.

Eragon and the others had then been summoned back to Fort Arngor, leaving with promises to bring aid to the battles Middle Earth would face against the forces of Sauron. Once returned, they summoned the entirety of their order together and it was decided they would be used as an airstrike force to help reinforce alliance lines and to attack enemy forces from the air. The battles came quicker than expected, when Saruman the White Wizard had transformed his fortress of Isengard into an industry of war. He declared himself allied with Sauron, and bred vicious Orc-monstrosities to ransack the countryside. And as they spread out, so too did orcs and goblins pour out from the Misty Mountains and Dol Guldur to attack Lothlorien and Mirkwood and Rohan.

The Dragon Rider forces were stretched thin as they were distributed far and wide to protect everyone. They fought alongside Thranduil and Galadriel to protect their forest homes. They held off enemy forces to buy retreating villagers more time, the dragons themselves being used to carry as many children and elderly as possible. They even went straight to Gondor to help with reinforcing the lines to be sure none of the enemy would take the ancient human kingdom.

And then, betrayal found them.

Saphira herself had seen it. When Sauron finally made his move and turned three of her students. The War of the Ring (as it had come to be known) had thought to be a sure win for the free peoples with Dragons and Riders on their side. That hope was turned to ash as Sauron worked his poisonous magic on three young students. Two had turned because of their greed for power, one out of hate: as a young girl, she'd watched her family be slaughtered by Urgals during the final war against Galbatorix. And when she had been chosen as a rider, she had felt betrayed when she was expected to call those same monsters her brothers-in-arms. She'd hidden that hate so well not even Saphira and Eragon had seen it in her. Sauron used it against her now, twisting it inside her to make her turn against her own order.

The dragons had been made furious with this development! They knew that Sauron might attempt to steal the power of the Eldunaris away from the dragons that he now had under his control. If he did, even with only three of them, he would be made too powerful to fight against – and he would be unstoppable if he also obtained the one ring. So, as punishment for their betrayal, the Eldunari Council had decided to work the same spell that they had worked upon the Forsworn almost two centuries ago. They used their magic to strip the betrayed dragons of their names, of their very consciousness. Now, they were little more than beasts, animals with no sentience, and therefore their Eldunaris were useless.

Eragon blamed himself for this failure, that he should have seen this coming, that the rider order was a failure all over again if he couldn't prevent corruption. This was the same betrayal that had driven the last order to the brink of extinction. Saphira had shared in his sorrow but had instead used it to fuel her vengeful fury.

When Eragon had received word that the Fellowship had been broken, and those of its members scattered, he'd had to get in touch with his student. He'd reassured them that they were doing their best to regain themselves and instead had told him to focus his attention on keeping Sauron's attention. And indeed they did, for along with the three riders he'd turned, Sauron thought to make a mockery of the order by having his Nazgul ride Fell-beasts: worm-like dragons that spouted no fire nor scales, with only two legs, as Smaug had been. Saphira hated them, for they were vile creatures with little intelligence that scorned the dragon-legacy. Though the dragons were larger and far more powerful, the Fell-Beasts were smaller and more agile, and they had the power of the Nazgul to protect them. Wherever the dragon-riders were, the Nazgul came to oppose them. It became a personal quest of Saphira's to kill them all.

Though she did not learn about this until long after the fact, but the Rider Order and Middle Earth at large had actually missed a fatal blow that would have seen the end of them – and none of them realised.

Thanks to Saphira's efforts in the sixty years she had been in Middle-Earth adopting awakened wild dragon eggs from the vault, the Middle Earth Wild Dragon population had suddenly spiked from the brink of extinction to being in full bloom. Some of the children she raised had made homes in Alagaesia, and others stayed in the wilderness of Middle Earth. Sauron had thought to take advantage of this, and recruit as many of them to his side as possible. His plan, she suspected, had been to create an army of dragons just as his master had done in the War of Wrath. It had been a host of Dragons that had turned the tides of war in Morgoth's favour and pushed back the gods themselves. If Sauron managed to do the same, he would be truly unstoppable.

Perhaps his arrogance had gone too far, or perhaps he had assumed he would be successful because of his own master's enslavement of dragons. For Sauron had gone to the wild dragons – of both Middle Earth and Alagaesia – and had attempted to recruit and dominate them. The dragons, led by their alpha, Saphira's real son, Aurye, had declared that they would not partake in the War of the Ring at all. They refused to partake in the fight, staying out of the conflict all together to fight for neither side. Despite knowing of Sauron's power and his attempts to win them over by appealing to their greed or self-interest, they refused his call. For Saphira had been a mother to each and every one of them, and though they did not fight at her side, out of respect for her and the fight she fought against the Dark Lord, they would not fight against her.

One she had learned of this, Saphira had been close to bursting with pride. And she had also felt a bit overwhelmed. Because she had done the simplest thing in the world: she had loved a child. She had been a mother. And yet somehow, that alone had been enough to save the world from complete and utter annihilation. How could that be? How could something so simple bring out such an astounding result?

From her memory, she recalled a time when Gandalf had visited Fort Arngor, and had sat down with her in the quiet of a dawn and had said:

"Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found." A smile crinkled his weathered lips. "I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love."

And in that moment, she knew no truer words were ever spoken.

But the war was not over yet…


	3. Chapter 3

"Fall of Gil-galad" - by Clamavi De Profundis

_Gil-galad was an Elven-king._  
_Of him the harpers sadly sing;_  
_the last whose realm was fair and free_  
_between the Mountains and the Sea._

_His sword was long, his lance was keen._  
_His shining helm afar was seen;_  
_the countless stars of heaven's field_  
_were mirrored in his silver shield._

_But long ago he rode away,_  
_and where he dwelleth none can say;_  
_for into darkness fell his star_  
_in Mordor where the shadows are._

* * *

_3019TA_

The War of the Ring was fought on two separate fronts, in the southern and northern theatres. Over the months that the war lasted, the dragon riders stretched themselves thin to fight in every corner they could. Eragon knew this wasn't a sound strategy, but he was desperate to save as many lives as he could. To him, it was a great crime to let a village be burned and pillaged, all for the sake of having the correct amount of dragon-power able to completely decimate the enemy in a separate battle. Saphira understood his thoughts, but still she argued with him over it. She and the Eldunari knew how important it was to have a plan against all the different forces that were coming at them in this war. Yet Eragon wanted all his riders in every place at once.

They came to an agreement when they decided to send envoys beyond the Misty Mountains to call to arms all the abled bodied people they could. Men of the differing towns and smaller cities, the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, even the Hobbits of the Shire. Flying on the winds allowed these emissaries to travel with supreme speed between each location. The youngest of their order, a boy named Theocorn and his dragon Witthruun, barely able to fly, had been begging to be allowed into the fighting. But they were too small, too inexperienced. This opportunity allowed Eragon to have them feel they were contributing without risking their lives.

With these reinforcements, the Kingdoms of Rohan, Rivendell and the Iron Hills had more to summon to their aid. And just in time.

The riders had tipped the balance of power in this war, and as a consequence, Sauron pushed back against them with all the might he could muster. In the southern theatre, the traitor Saruman within his tower of Isengard had pressed the attack on the southern kingdoms with a flood of beastly Uruk-Hai. These were an advanced breed of orcs built for war: stronger, faster, able to move through daylight and with a savagery and singlemindedness Middle Earth had never before seen. With them pouring into the surrounding countryside, it was very clear that they meant for the total destruction of all the free peoples of Middle Earth.

And so came about the first of two major setbacks that befell the Rider order.

Eragon had directed all his riders in the southern reaches of Middle Earth to fly straight for Isengard. They needed to stop this machine of war in its tracks before it could overwhelm the allied forces and then head west into undefended territory. The dragons arrived at Isengard just after an army had left for Helms Deep. Whilst too late to stop the Uruk-Hai from marching, Isengard was left virtually undefended aside from the breeders and craftsman that still maned the forges beneath the tower. They were decisive and brutal. Fire and destruction rained down upon Saruman's keep. All his forges were destroyed, his remaining orcs and goblins slain. Saruman's own power was greatly diminished, and so riders and dragons rooted him out of his own tower like ferrets sniffing out a mouse from its burrow. His servant, Grima Wormtongue, was killed and eaten in the skirmish. Saruman himself was taken alive for questioning, initially.

However, dragonfire and trees are not a pleasant combination. The battle set fire to what remained of the forest around Isengard. And when the Ents arrived – tricked by two Hobbits of the Fellowship in attempting to gain another ally – they bared witness to this atrocity, and were enraged. They attacked both dragons and orcs indiscriminately. The Ents stole Saruman from the riders, and because they now held no allegiance to any free peoples, they slew him. It was only because of the interference of Merry and Pippin that the dragons and riders held back a counterattack. Instead, they retreated with the two hobbits, and the Ents took control of Isengard for themselves.

It was a victory, in essence. But also a defeat. Isengard could no longer aid the Dark Lord, but neither could it now protect the western regions. The area surrounding it was now no-mans-land.

At the same time, in the northern theatre, Sauron had made deals with an empire far beyond the boarders of Middle Earth, called the Easterlings. They came with siege equipment and beasts of war as big as newly matured dragons. They swept across the north, intending to conquer the Iron Hills, Mirkwood, and even Erebor. They were aided in their efforts by the orcs born from Dol Guldur. Quite by accident, two dwarvish riders and three elvish riders were sent with their dragons to the wrong locations. The dwarves and their dragons went to Mirkwood, and the elves and their dragons flew to the Iron Hills. It made for rather awkward and tense talks at first, but once the orcs and Easterlings were pushed back initially, Eragon and Saphira were astounded to find that perhaps it helped to improve relations between the two races – just a little bit.

And of course, no force could take Erebor. It was clear that Sauron wanted to take the mountain for its strategic position, the riches within, and perhaps even to sway Smaug under his control once again. Though Smaug was bound to the Mountain by the magic imposed on his true name, Saphira had feared the power of the Dark Lord, that he might take control of her former mate again. She and Eragon had raced out to Erebor, to see if they could hold back this attack on the Mountain. But on the morning they arrived… they found no host of the enemy.

The fields had been scorched with fire, the soil stained with blood. The carcasses of Mûmakil and the Haradrim forces lay upon the ground, cut open and half eaten. Orcs had been roasted alive in their armour. They had not even made it to the great gate of Erebor, slaughtered right before it. A part of Saphira was astounded at the level of destruction wrought upon that field, and relieved that Smaug was still unenchanted by Sauron's spells. Another part of her longed for just a glimpse of him, perhaps to even see a glimmer of his eyes from the shadow of the mountain. She did not know what words she would say to him if she did chance upon him, or if he would want to see her. But in that moment where she had been so close, a pang of loneliness had sliced at her heart. And guilt. Guilt most especially.

She wanted to stay. She wanted to see him, to tell him she was sorry. But the war called her away.

It was because of this little trip to Erebor, that Saphira and Eragon were the only ones close enough, when the second outrage befell their order.

With most of the Riders out in the field, their Fortress home had been left undefended. A small band of orcs and trolls had made their way past all the fighting and into the Grey Mountains. There, they came across Fort Arngor, with only a few young riders and their immature dragons. Without fire, the young dragons could put up a fight, but not much else. Being so inexperienced, they could not fend off the invaders indefinitely. As such, they kept their adversaries busy whilst one dragon tried to reach the edge of the mountains and call for help. Saphira had heard the faintest whispers of a mind in panic, and had come flying as fast as she possibly could.

Sauron had directed the orcs here because he wanted them to hit the Riders where it might hurt the most. The Orcs raided through the fortress, some stealing whatever trinkets they could grab, but others were more focused. A few found the Hall of Colours and thought to steal the Eldunari for their master. However, Cuaroc, in his metal warrior's body, was able to defend the council from the invaders. And yet that wasn't their only target.

Saphira and Eragon had arrived and immediately fought their way through the invaders. Eragon tried to rally Saphira to defend their students against the Trolls outside, but she was a dragoness possessed. She stormed into Arngor, following the trail of destruction that led down into the vaults. Her heart had been beset with terror. The Orcs had been sent to smash whatever eggs they could find.

She found them just as they opened the door to the vault. They had only just broken in. And through some magic she knew not of, one egg had already been smashed upon the floor.

Saphira flew into a vengeful rage so great and terrible, if any orc had survived that encounter, they would have spread tales of her bloodthirsty ferocity. She had a mother's fury that drove her on a killing spree. Her fire roasted the orcs out of the vault, and she chased them through the halls. Their armour was nothing compared to her teeth. Mauled, broken and torn apart, they screamed under her jaws and talons.

_"__Saphira!" _she had heard Eragon cry distantly. He was running to her aid, though she needed no one's help.

The orcs fleeing her, and those running from Cuaroc had met in the entrance hall and had been cornered by Eragon. They'd had no choice but to go through him to reach the exit. Eragon managed to get his sword up, and took down five of the remaining orcs in just as many moves. But their numbers proved their advantage. When Saphira had appeared behind them, fire in her throat and murder in her eyes, they had panicked and swarmed the lone rider.

Eragon had his wards up, so he had no idea what had failed him that day. Saphira saw the blow coming, the Orc lifting its blade high to strike down on Eragon's side whilst he was busy with two other opponents. She saw the danger, could feel it like an electrical current in the air. It had snapped her out of her rage. Her roar turned to one of panic as she leapt to try and catch the fiend before he could pounce.

But she was too late. Whatever magic Sauron had armed these orcs with was powerful enough to break dragon eggs and cut through magical wards. Eragon had leapt back to avoid the deadly hit – but he couldn't escape it completely. The blade had sliced through his face and took his eye.

Saphira had screamed as the pain had ripped through her own flesh, the bond between her and Eragon giving her an echo of his pain. Her rider had fallen, but he was not dead. With no other choice, Saphira had blocked their connection so that she could see through the agony. Her heart was torn – she wanted to stay by her rider, be sure he was safe; but she knew these orcs couldn't be allowed to return to their master. They could not tell him what they had found here. So, she'd followed in pursuit, and she and the younger dragons had fallen upon them and slaughtered them all. Quick and efficient – nowhere near as painful as Saphira's vengeance demanded, but the task was done. Now, she could return to her partner-of-her-heart-and-mind.

Eragon had been bedridden for a week. Healing magic kept infection away, but the touch of the Dark Lord meant no magic could recover his eye. It was gone forever. Saphira had stayed by Eragon's bedside, once again, self-loathing for her own failures was her only companion in those long nights. She only left his side to go to the eggs, to tend to them, and to mourn the one little hatchling she had lost.

For too long, she had thought she, Eragon, the Riders and the dragons were invulnerable. She had thought they would be what tipped this war into easy victory. And for her hubris, this had happened. Sauron had just reminded her how easy it was to be broken. And that now left her fearful for the future…

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello lovely readers, I just wanted to leave a quick message to you all to answer some questions.**

**I know a lot of you are interested in me going into greater detail on the events of the Lord of the Rings, and how the Riders effect it. However, I cannot commit to that. This story was always designed as a short story, with the war of the ring being explained but never going into explicit detail, dialogue and all. If I did, this story would be 50 chapters long, and I am afraid I don't have the time or the commitment for that at this time. However, when we return to the "present" events in this story, we will go back to a more book-like format, rather than the flashback synopsis style I have employed in these last two chapters. **

**I hope everyone is okay with this. And that you enjoy this story regardless. **

**Please don't forget to review!**


	4. Chapter 4

"The Dawn Will Come" by Folklore Guild

_"Shadows fall and hope has fled  
Steel your heart, the dawn will come  
The night is long and the path is dark  
Look to the sky for one day soon  
The dawn will come_

_The Shepherd's lost and his home is far  
Keep to the stars, the dawn will come  
The night is long and the path is dark  
Look to the sky for one day soon  
The dawn will come_

_Bare your blade and raise it high  
Stand your ground, the dawn will come  
The night is long and the path is dark  
Look to the sky for one day soon  
The dawn will come"_

* * *

_3019TA_

With the invasion of Fort Arngor, the breaking of an egg, and the injury to the leader of the Order, the Riders were shaken. Some even whispered, in those quiet moments between friends in the darkness of night, about leaving for Alagaesia across the sea. Saphira did her best to motivate her people, to rally them against their enemy. But even she was made disquiet.

Dragon-eggs were supposed to be almost invulnerable, the shell so hard that no fall or blunt weapon might break it. It disturbed her to have seen one broken. It allowed the claws of fear to inch over her scales, to wonder at what powerful magic could do such a thing. What's more, if the Dark Lord possessed the power to shatter dragon-eggs, what other means of destruction might he throw against them?

These doubts ate at all of them, and so in an act of desperation and fear, the riders voluntarily pulled back in their war-effort, returning to For Arngor. They needed to secure their borders. Every precaution had to be taken to ensure a breach like this could not happen again. The Eldunari and Cuaroc were moved down into the vault so as to be better protection for the eggs. As well as the most powerful enchantments and dragon-magic were employed to be certain that no intruders could reach the vault. Sentries were posted in the mountain peeks to watch for approaching danger, patrols regularly monitoring every pass and valley. By the time Eragon was out of his sick-bed and returning to his duties, the Rider Order was surviving, but needed direction.

Their isolationism couldn't have come at a worse time. The free peoples of Middle Earth had sent requests for aid. One had been for Lothlorien, who had been attacked repeatedly by Sauron's forces. The power of the Lady Galadriel had managed to keep his armies at bay, but they wanted help to drive these orcs out once and for all. And then there had been the pleas from the Rohan people; once proud and righteous, they had never asked the Riders for help. Saphira could remember when she had first met the Rohan people, the lot of them horse-lovers. They trusted their beasts so implicitly they initially wanted nothing to do with the dragons, for their horses were spooked by the giant carnivores. It had taken long negotiations for the King of the Rohan to finally see them as allies and not as threats.

By the time the Riders were ready to leave for the battlefield once more, it was almost too late. The Rohan had retreated to Helms-Deep, where they had won a victory against the forces of darkness. But at a cost. Saphira had been displeased as she had soared through the countryside, finding dozens of burnt out villages, the corpses piled to rot in the sun. Most of the rebellion against Sauron was scattered. It was difficult to know where to go now.

Eragon and Saphira had cast a scrying spell in order to communicate with Gandalf. There was one battle they were desperately needed for, the final defence – where if they were successful, meant they could finally push back the enemy.

It would later become known as the Battle of Pelinor Fields.

Minas Tirith was under siege by the forces of Sauron. The riders of Rohan had come to their aid, yet the Nazgul, led by the Witch King of Angmar, were relentless. Saphira and her dragons had descended in force to oppose them, taking the wretched, hated Fell Beasts from the battle on the walls and into the air. It was later immortalised in song; dragons descending from the sky, their wings driving away the clouds to let the sun in, the scales gleaming and their magical armour shining! With fire and tooth and claw they had ripped at the Nazgul and their simple beasts, unrelenting until their corpses were naught but ash.

When the last of the Easterling forces arrived to join the battle, Saphira had promised her fellow dragons a feast on Mumakil flesh! Then the eagles had come as well, to help them all drive out the last of the of the dark armies. Even the Witch King himself had been slain!

In the smoke riddled fields when the battle was over, Eragon and Saphira had helped to lead in the mourning for those who had lost their lives. The King of the Rohan, Théoden, was one such casualty. His daughter had been the one to deliver the killing blow to Witch King to protect her father. To comfort her in her time of grief, and to show that they were grateful to her for what she'd done, the rider order had presented her with a master sword. And they pledged that she would always have friends in Fort Arngor.

With Minas Tirith finally secured, Eragon and Saphira, Thorn and Murtagh, and even Arya and Fírnen had come to speak with the council on how to end this war. The hobbit Frodo still possessed the One Ring and was continuing his journey into Mordor. Though a scrying spell, Eragon confirmed their journey. But now the mission was at its most perilous point. It was agreed that Sauron _must not find Frodo! _They had to keep his attention to give the little hobbit time to complete his quest.

All the combined armies of this last alliance marched onto Mordor and met the forces of Sauron at the Black Gate. Dragon flew beside Eagle. Dwarf fought beside Elf. And a King rose to lead them all. It was gruelling, awful fighting that day. Sauron threw everything he had at them… Including the three Dragon Riders who had turned traitor.

Eragon and Saphira had engaged them first, flanked by Arya and Fírnen on one side and Murtagh and Thorn on the other. They met the three betrayers head on. Their dragons were little better than the Fell Beasts, animal like in nature and responding only to instinct, not comprehending strategy. This meant they would have been easy to kill, had they not been augmented by Sauron's foul magic. The same could be said of their riders. The fight had taken everything inside Saphira, for she abruptly found herself filled with doubt. She had raised these dragons, had been a mother to them, had taught their riders and knew them as well as her own children. And now she was expected to kill them? The thought had never crossed her mind before, but seeing their tortured souls, feeling their shattered minds, she was struck with grief.

That hesitation had almost cost her. The traitors had managed to swerve around her defences and almost slit Thorn's throat. That had been what motivated Saphira back into the fight. She came at them with the fury of a mother avenging her children. And when she had them in her claws, she whispered into the voice that was their minds, where she knew Sauron lurked, watching.

_"Find peace, my kin. Sauron will burn for his transgressions!"_

And burn he had.

As the battle had tipped in their favour, Mount Doom had suddenly erupted and the tower of Barad-Dur had fallen. Saphira had felt it, a shockwave ripple across the fabric of magic that lay across all things. The darkness had been pushed away. The One Ring was destroyed. Sauron was defeated. The War was over.


End file.
